


Have Mercy On My Soul

by Jacketarearmpants



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghost Rider, F/M, No Smut, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27447070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacketarearmpants/pseuds/Jacketarearmpants
Summary: On December 17th 1989, El Hopper was kidnapped on her way back to her Boston University dorm room. 3 days later, her tracked location, the Department of Energy lab outside of Ithaca, New York, was found burnt to the ground with no traces of survivors. She was presumed dead.On May 11th 1991, Mike Wheeler died on the side of a Nevada highway. His body was never recovered.Now in April of 1992, the two have reunited on a path of vengeance, blood, and in Mike’s case—fire.AKA The Ghost Rider AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Have Mercy On My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is another AU I've been working on ever since I marathoned Agents of Shield during quarantine and fell in love with Robbie Reyes/Ghost Rider. 
> 
> Just a couple quick warnings before you read. This is going to be a very dark fic with plenty of graphic depictions of violence, PTSD, and, at the end of this chapter, vomit. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos!

The old man’s back slams against the brick wall, knocking his glasses askew. Mike curls his fingers into the man’s lab coat before shoving him back into the wall.

“Doctor Smith.” Mike grins. “How are you doing on this fine April evening?”

It wasn't too hard to grab him. Mike just had to park his motorcycle a few blocks away and wait behind the building for the doctor to walk directly into his arms. There was no security, since Dr. Smith sent them all home in order for him to continue that affair he's been having with his secretary for the past four months. As he left for the night, Dr. Smith basically gift-wrapped himself for Mike.

“I don't know who you are,” Dr. Smith sputters. “Please don't hurt me.”

“You don’t know who I am?” Mike cocks an eyebrow. “That’s fair. I mean, you never personally did anything to me. But you did do a lot of things in your long, illustrious career.

“I’ve saved so many people and… I… Please just let me go. If you want money, I have money.”

Fury blazes through Mike’s body. “I’m not here for money,” he sneers.

“What—what do you want?” Dr. Smith asks, tears running down his face. “What do you want?” 

“I want you to remember something.” Mike pulls Dr. Smith in closer, only a few inches from Mike’s face. “Do you remember Hawkins?”

“Hawkins?” Dr. Smith pales at the mention of the former lab. “How do you know about Hawkins?”

“You were involved in that Department of Energy lab just outside of it.” MIke ignores the question and continues, venom dripping from his words. “Tell me Doctor, what did you do in the lab again?” Mike’s anger rises and the fire beneath his skin rages. “Can you please remind me?”

“I—I—” Dr. Smith stammers.

“You tortured children! Shocked women until they couldn’t think for themselves! Killed people that got in your way!” Mike shouts into his face. “You were there and you let it happen because it kept you on the so-called right side. You stood by Brenner’s side because it made you feel good inside.” Mike’s hand clutching Dr. Smith's lab coat begins to shake and Mike knows the Rider is coming out soon.

“Please,” Smith begs.

“I wasn’t a test subject there, and I would have just left you alone for the other test subjects to deal with,” Mike delivers coldly as Smith continues to cry. “You know, the one that’s been killing Hawkins personnel for a long time, she could have easily taken care of you. But then, something happened to me.” Mike’s voice cracks as the fire inside him builds. “Your friends took the love of my life from me. They stole her in the middle of the night like fucking thieves, and then when I tracked her down and tried to save her, they burnt the Ithaca lab to the ground. They killed her. They took away the last thing I had in the world that mattered.” Mike’s blood boils from the heat of his retribution and his head starts to smoke. “So to answer your question about what I want, the answer is vengeance.”

Mike yells into the Chicago night as the Spirit of Vengeance erupts out. Flames fan out from beneath the collar of his leather jacket and engulf his head in orange hellfire as it consumes him, burning away his face and revealing only a skull with a pair of amber eyes. The Rider shakes the last remnants of the transformation away, his blazing head whooshing back and forth in the night air.

“It's time to pay for your sins,” the Rider croaks as Smith begins to scream, his body being consumed by fire, flesh melting away with a sickly crackling. When the Rider releases his grip on Dr. Smith's lab coat, the doctor’s still-smoldering body falls to the ground, blistering from the heat of the Rider’s vengeful flames. The Rider watches for a bit before finally turning away. The fire of his head extinguishes as Mike’s face rebuilds itself, his flesh becoming whole again. Finally, Mike is back in control of his body, with the Rider retreating into the recesses of his mind.

The first time Mike transformed into the Rider, it was painful and confusing. After housing the Spirit for almost a year now, letting the Rider take over has become second nature, with Mike and the Rider living in a brutal symbiosis: the Rider granting Mike supernatural abilities to complete his quest for vengeance and Mike giving the Rider a willing vessel to inflict pain on those who have spilt innocent blood. 

Mike takes several deep breaths, feeling his body become his once again, before heading out from behind the building and leaving the still-smoldering body of Dr. Smith behind him. He begins his quick walk toward his motorcycle and once his bike comes into view—a black sport Suzuki that came as part of the package deal that also included fire-based powers and a vengeance demon living in his skull—Mike feels a painful pang in his heart.

_EI used to like them so much._

Mike started riding motorcycles his senior year of high school. El said something dumb about liking a guy that would ride a motorcycle, and since Mike already had his driver's license, he decided to have Hopper, who spent time as a motorcycle cop in New York City, teach him how to ride. Sure enough, by April of his senior year, Mike was the proud owner of a State of Indiana motorcycle license. He then managed to take all the money he saved up from his summer jobs and graduation gifts and buy a used motorcycle from a dealer in Indianapolis. This summer in between his senior year of high school and his first year of college was full of so many happy memories with El: her arms wrapped around him as they gunned down the winding back roads of Hawkins, the way her curly hair would stick out as she took her own helmet off and how he would gently laugh at her and ruffle it to playfully tease her, parking by the Quarry and sitting on the edge, just the two of them, looking up at the stars at night. El used to say that the motorcycle was like the old bike rides the two of them use to go on, except louder and faster. 

El.

The girl that made his life worth it. The girl that witnessed it all, from Will's disappearance, to the near destruction of Hawkins, to the Russian invasion, to Hop’s own disappearance and rescue. El had always been there for him and he's always been there for her.

Except for the one moment she needed him the most.

Except for the one night where she vanished off the face of the Earth. 

He was so close to finding her, too. If only he and the rest of the Hawkins crew managed to find her a day earlier, then maybe he could have run into that burning lab and rescued her from annihilation.

But instead, he was too late.

As Mike's grip tightens on his motorcycle keys, one thought rampages through his head. 

_It may be too late to save her, but there's more than enough time to avenge her._  


* * *

  
“I think Brenner is cleaning up loose ends,” Kali spouts suddenly, causing El to pale and look up from her sandwich. The two of them are on their respective lunch breaks, eating on a park bench near El’s job with the L.A. sun beaming above.

“What do you mean?” El whispers. Brenner’s name still strikes fear and pain in her heart.

“A lot of the people on our list started disappearing or being found dead. Brutally. So I think someone’s cleaning up, and cleaning up hard.” Kali’s jaw is firm as she swipes crumbs off her record store employee shirt. “Taylor called me before you woke up this morning. I sent them to Chicago a few weeks ago to check on some leads. All of them turned up dead.”

“I remember you telling me that the two of them died,” El says. “But what about Dr. Smith?”

“The Chicago Police Department found his body behind the company he was working at.” Kali’s mouth flattens into a grim expression, suggesting there is more to the story.

“How did they find his body?” El cocks an eyebrow. “The look on your face says that it wasn't pretty.” 

“They found it incinerated,” Kali explains. “Taylor couldn't get much information, but the police could only identify Dr. Smith’s body with dental records. No info on possible suspects.” Kali pauses. “It's times like this that I wish we still had our hacker.” As she trails off, her eyes fall into her lap, and her mouth twists into a frown.

“What happened?” El’s heard only bits and pieces about the mysterious hacker who worked with Kali for a couple months before El found her in June of last year. “You mention him occasionally but you never—”

“He died,” Kali interrupts. “And no, I don't wish to elaborate on that.” 

“Okay.” El drops the subject. “Do you think…” She stops to build up the courage to say the name of the man who has tortured her for her entire life—he’s still torturing her, even when she hasn’t seen him in years. “...Brenner will come for us next?”

“I don’t think so,” Kali answers. “He thinks both of us are dead and we haven't been killing anyone recently, so we’re pretty far off their radar.” 

“Wait. If it’s the government killing them, shouldn’t the government by doing their best to conceal their identities?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they're sending a message.” Kali smirks. “As of right now, there's only six people left on that list, and with Brenner being one of them—”

El cuts her off. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means we can start hunting again.” Kali's small smile grows wider. “The good news is that they're all in or around L.A., so it won't be too hard to find them. Hopefully, we’ll be tying up a few loose ends ourselves.” She chuckles briefly before continuing, “Hell, maybe the government would thank us for doing this.”

El laughs pensively and the two of them resume eating. 

“Speaking of hunting,” Kali asks between bites, “how has your training been going?”

After tracking down Kali ten months ago and moving with her to L.A., El has been working hard to make sure her powers are in good shape for when they start hunting Hawkins Lab personnel again. Her training consists of either heading to a local junkyard to practice lifting and manipulating heavy objects, or using items like lost IDs and photographs to track people down. El’s powers have gotten strong enough that her nose no longer bleeds when she does lighter work, but when she starts lifting heavier objects, the familiar strain of her abilities returns.

“It’s going okay,” El says. She finds herself nervous at the mention of hunting again. Even after she managed to escape the whole Ithaca situation, she still remains wary of the idea of possible retribution. 

“So what is it tonight?” Kali takes a drink of water. “You going to the junkyard or are you trying to go back into the void?”

“I'm going to do the junkyard,” El mumbles. She looks down and shifts her librarian’s lanyard out of the way of her food. 

“Alright,” Kali says. “I’m working a double tomorrow so I’m probably going to be asleep when you get back. So be safe.”

El nods, her expression tight. “I will.”

“I know you’re scared.” Kali reaches over to place a comforting hand on El’s thigh. “But now's the time to start hunting them down again and making them pay for what they did to us. This is what Mike would have wanted you to do.”

El tenses at the mention of Mike's name, a cold chill of grief running down her spine.

Mike, with his shaggy hair and dorky sweaters. Mike. The first person that ever gave her security. The first person that ever wanted just to be with her for her—not to use her, not to abuse her, just to love her. Mike, the person she thinks about nearly every day as she wakes up with her heart aching for his presence.

_How would he look at me now, sitting in a park, plotting the murders of men?_

A single tear runs out of the corner of El’s eye as she swallows the lump forming in her throat.  


* * *

  
_“Where are we going next Michael?”_ the Rider's voice grumbles inside Mike’s head, jolting him awake. 

Mike sits up, panting, and quickly glances over to his alarm clock. 

_“12:15,”_ Mike replies in his mind. _“You let me sleep a little bit.”_

After Mike and the Rider left Dr. Smith’s smoldering body behind, the rest of the night disappeared in a blur of hot blood and vengeful flames as Mike granted the Rider full control to punish those that spilled innocent blood. Mike came back to his body as he was walking through the door to his apartment, his leather jacket covered in multiple people’s blood and his body exhausted beyond belief. After a quick shower, he passed out face down on his bed at 6:30 A.M.

 _“For what’s next, we will have to check the list.”_ Mike answers in his head

Mike jumps out of bed and looks around his apartment. It’s barely furnished and looks like he just moved in recently, when in reality he’s been living here for almost six months now. But today is the last day. Mike just checked off the last name from Chicago, so it’s time to pack up and move on to the next city to finish his quest for vengeance. He already quit his job and told the landlord he’s not coming back to the apartment after today. All that’s left are the final preparations and packing before he leaves Chicago for good.

“Okay,” Mike says aloud. He walks over to the list, a massive sheet of paper with the names and last known locations of every single person that worked at Hawkins lab between 1971 and 1983. Most of the names had already been crossed off when Mike began his current hunt, thanks to his and Kali’s previous work. After being imbued with the Spirit of the Rider, he continued to hunt and kill, eventually crossing off 30 of the 36 names. 

Mike grabs a Sharpie from the desk and draws a line through Dr. Smith’s name. _“Next up we have…”_ Mike’s eyes drop to the last 6 names. At the very bottom is Dr. Martin Brenner. Mike’s blood runs cold at the thought of the devil that is Dr. Brenner.

_I’m saving him for last._

_“Except for Brenner,”_ Mike says to the Rider, _“everyone else is in or around Los Angeles.”_

 _“L.A.,”_ the Rider purrs. _“It's been almost a year since I've been there.”_

_“I'm pretty sure Robbie’s going to be excited to see us again.”_

_“Why do we have to go see Roberto?”_

_“We need to borrow his car,”_ Mike explains. _“Don't want people knowing that he retired.”_

Mike moves around his apartment, grabbing items and shoving them in the one duffel bag he owns. His clothes are already in there, having been packed before he went out last night.

 _“Once everything’s packed, we can leave. That would probably be around 1,”_ Mike calculates. _“So if we drive straight to California, we can probably be in L.A. by tomorrow night.”_

 _“Or I could help you.”_

_“If you help me,”_ Mike asks, _“how fast would we get there?”_

_“Before nightfall.”_

_“So that means I can probably see Robbie tonight.”_

_”We definitely can see Roberto tonight.”_

_“Alright.”_ Mike smirks. _“Let's get moving.”_

Thirty minutes later, Mike is leaving the key to his apartment on the kitchen counter and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder before heading out the door. A quick walk brings him to his motorbike, and he throws his leg over it and starts it up.

 _“Once we hit the empty highway, you can help me,”_ Mike addresses the Rider. _“I don't want you out in public, we already caused enough of a ruckus last night.”_

_“But the world must know about the Rider.”_

_“The world isn't ready for a lot of things, Rider,”_ Mike says before pulling away from the parking space and starting his journey to L.A.

_L.A., here I come._  


* * *

  
El looks both ways before sprinting across the darkened Los Angeles street. She finished up her junkyard training just after midnight, before deciding to head home. She usually avoids walking this late, as her walk from the junkyard to the apartment she shares with Kali takes her through the industrial part of the neighborhood, which is full of long, dark alleys. Walking alone at night also makes her wary of muggers, but she still has her powers and—failing those—the 6-inch hunting knife tucked into her boot.

El is just about to turn into an alley when a loud screeching noise grabs her attention. She whips her head around and spots a pickup truck driving down the street toward her. Even though she can barely make out its occupants, they appear to be three men that El recognizes from the police watchlist as members of a local Aryan Brotherhood gang.

_What the fuck are they doing out here?_

_Never mind the questions, I might as well do something good tonight._

_I'll wait for them to get close and then I'll stop the car._

El reaches into her backpack and pulls out her mask. It’s a baby doll mask, similar to the one Kali gave her 8 years ago, but a little larger and a little more patterned with intricate rose designs on the cheek. As the pickup truck gets closer, El mentally prepares her powers for use. When it gets within 20 feet, she can see that the occupants appear to be heavily armed.

_Yeah, I'm definitely taking them out today._

With a simple flick of her wrist, El blows out the front tire and stops the engine. The truck spins out before coming to rest in the middle of the street, only 15 feet away from El.

“IS THAT HIM?” the passenger of the truck shouts. 

“FUCKING SHOOT ANYTHING THAT MOVES,” the driver answers, attempting to restart the truck.

“WE DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS,” the third man in the back seat of the truck screams while picking up and racking the bolt of an assault rifle. 

“THERE!” The passenger points to the alley that El is standing in. Less than a second later, the man in the back shoves his gun out the back window and begins firing. El jumps and dodges, feeling the bullets smack into the wall next to her as the deafening gunfire echoes around the street.

“FUCK!” The gunfire stops with a sudden expletive from the man in the back. 

Suddenly, a loud roaring noise brings everyone's attention to the end of the street. El looks out from her hiding spot as the three men are distracted by it. At the end of the block sits a sleek black 1969 Dodge Charger, its engine bellowing into the night air. The men in the pickup truck begin scrambling to restart the stalled vehicle as El questions the new addition to the situation. 

The squealing of tires brings her attention back to the Charger as it guns down the street at a blazing speed. Suddenly, she hears a whooshing noise and sees the driver from the pickup truck throw a Molotov cocktail. El watches it arc through the air before it smashes into the windshield of the Charger. However, to El’s shock, the Charger continues forward, its engine and tires engulfed in flames, giving it a hellish appearance. The Charger keeps getting faster and faster, before finally it slams into the side of the pickup truck with a crash. El covers her ears and ducks her head, the sound of the impact vibrating her very being.

When El looks back up, she's greeted by this sight of the pickup truck now on its side, the three occupants laying broken and battered inside the cab. The black Charger appears to be completely unharmed. El smells gas in the air and looks down at the ground, where she sees a ring of spilt gas forming around the two crashed cars. A split second later, it ignites, forming a wall of fire around the crash site.

The driver’s side door of the Charger opens and a figure steps out. El has a hard time making out their appearance through the flames, but she can see that they’re wearing a black leather jacket with three red stripes running down the front, and a chain wrapped around their shoulder and chest like a sash. When El looks at the person’s face, it looks like they’re wearing a skull mask. It appears to her that their head is on fire, but she merely shrugs it away as an effect of the fire in the air.

The figure walks over to the back of the pickup truck and grabs a steel rod that was dislodged in the crash. In an instant, the rod catches fire, giving it the appearance of a fiery sword. El watches on as the figure, now clutching their flaming weapon, walks over to the driver of the pickup truck who is currently lying in the street, having dragged his clearly broken body out of the crashed truck.

“It’s you. I always knew you would come back,” the driver croaks before the skull-faced figure brings the rod down into the man's head. El stands there, eyes wide in horror, as the figure mercilessly pounds his head in with the flaming rod. Each hit lands with a sickening thud and sends blood flying. El averts her eyes to prevent herself from throwing up. As she glances toward the rest of the crash site, she sees the passenger attempting to crawl away from the wreckage, his broken legs dragging behind him. Abruptly, the skull-faced figure stops pounding the man’s face—which no longer resembles anything close to a human appearance—and turns toward the crawling passenger.

In one fluid motion, the figure throws the rod. It cuts through the air before penetrating the back of the passenger’s head, pinning him to the asphalt with a crunch. El brings a trembling hand up to cover her mouth. The figure makes work of the last man, calmly walking over and grabbing him from the back of the truck and, almost effortlessly, lifting him into the air. El can’t tear her eyes away as the man spontaneously combusts, flames engulfing every inch of his body as he screams in agony.

After a few seconds, the figure throws the flaming body to the ground and begins to return to their charger. Suddenly, they stop and look directly toward the alley where El is standing. She feels their cold gaze scan over her body; however, there’s something else in that gaze. Something familiar. Something intimate. Something El can’t put her finger on.

Finally, the skull-faced figure opens the door, gets in the Charger, and peels off into the street. The Charger’s wheels are still on fire, leaving behind two tracks of flames. The second it’s out of sight, El releases a breath that she didn’t know she was holding and vomits onto the sidewalk. As she wipes her mouth on her sleeve, she just has one thought.

_Who the fuck was that?_


End file.
